


The Bewitched Flannel

by VenezuelanWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is a terrible liar, Crowley secretly ships it, Dorks in Love, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Sam can't Believe It, Sharing Clothes, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenezuelanWriter/pseuds/VenezuelanWriter
Summary: After a witch casts a spell on a clothing item Dean and Castiel share, they’ll discover their feelings towards the other are mutual… but not without skipping a little bit of drama and humor, of course.





	The Bewitched Flannel

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! Still kinda new into Destiel. There are almost 70k fanfics of them out there (and that’s just here on the Archive) so I bet somewhere among all of that, there is something pretty much like this. But hey, I’m lazy, searching is hard when there’s so much out there, not everything is tagged, and I enjoy writing.
> 
> So here you go, a silly piece by yours truly that I hope you enjoy.
> 
>  **Translations (courtesy of Yandex Translate)** : 
> 
> • _Larvatus vestimenta faciam vos sequi vestra animus_ = Bewitched clothes will make you follow your heart.  
>  • _Carminibus et incantationibus, lava o signifers corpus_ = May spells and enchantments wash off your body.
> 
> Beta'd by: undeadandinbed.tumblr.com <3 thank you so much!

Cass treasured his trenchcoat. It had been a fixed part of him for years and he just couldn’t believe he had to say goodbye to every item of the outfit that he’d learned to love and consider actually _his._

But now that his grace was gone, there was nothing he could do about it. He needed a new wardrobe.

*

Taking Cass in was a refreshing experience.

Sam had always felt like they hardly repaid Cass for everything that he’d done for him and Dean, so offering him a home, a _real_ home where he could sleep and hang out and feel safe because now Cass was human and needed all of those things to live… it was more than refreshing and gratifying.

Sam was glad he had a chance to show Cass how important he was to him and Dean, and how deeply they meant that he was family.

*

Dean was always okay with Cass borrowing his clothes. It was weird at first, of course, because Cass looked like a projection of himself walking around the bunker wearing entire _Dean’s courtesy_ outfits, but nothing Dean couldn’t get used to after a while.

Plus, he understood he had to be the one sharing clothes with Cass, since Sam’s gigantic clothes were way oversized for him: flannels and shirts too long that could serve Cass as a dress and pants he’d probably have to roll up maybe more than one foot to make them wearable.

Dean had a drawer of the clothes he shared with Cass, another one only for black t-shirts (oh, surprise, Dean owned more than ten!), and another one for his personally non-negotiable ones because they were just sacred. As long as the clothes from each drawer didn’t mix up—he was a man of order—Dean didn’t care about anything else.

It was temporary, just for as long as they found Cass enough clothes for himself.

*

Bobby sat behind his desk at the library, looking for anything unusual in the paper, picking up from time to time one of the phones on his wall and, most importantly, drinking highly caffeinated coffee.

He found an apparent witch-case in Kansas and, without even thinking twice about it or making a big deal out of it, he sent it Sam and Dean’s way.

*

Dean liked doing the laundry. It was one of the few things that made him feel like a regular person and not like the man that had been to Hell, Heaven, Purgatory and whose idea of a regular Thursday was to have chats with the actual Satan or _at least_ , if not, to have the King of Hell at his leaving room.

He was getting a pile of flannels out of the dryer and putting them in a plastic basket when his Zeppelin ringtone let him know there was an incoming call from Bobby.

A case was sent his and Sam’s way, so he hung up, grabbed the navy blue flannel from the pile and went to let Sam know they had a witch situation not even thirty minutes away from the bunker.

*

 _“Larvatus_ vestimenta _..._ faciam vos _..._ sequi vestra _... animus!”_

Jullieth threw one final blast towards the oldest of the Winchester brothers—Dean was his name, she thought— and snapped her fingers to get herself out of there.

She just needed to buy herself some time before they got close enough to catch her and _that_ spell, she thought with a witty smirk, would work perfectly for that.

*

Sam rushed to where Dean laid on the floor.

“Hey, Dean. Do you feel alright?”

Dean blinked, regaining his composure. He supported himself on the heels of his hands and straightened up.

“I, uh, yeah. I’m feeling normal.”

Sam helped him up, one hand on his brother’s back and the other pulling him up.

“She cast a spell on you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dean shot him a glare.

“Yes, Sam. I’m sure.”

Sam sighed.

“Good.”

Sam decided to believe Dean for the moment. He looked okay indeed. If anything, he was neither aging nor turning young just yet. Or getting his memories wiped, or starting to behave like a dog. That should be a good sign, right?

*

“Oh, my God, Cass,” Dean said, out of breath as soon as he laid eyes on Cass when he entered the bunker library.

Sam was walking right behind him.

“Dean, Sam, how was the hunt—”

Dean hugged Cass tightly, like one of those times their lives had been in danger and they yet manage to make it out alive, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Dean pulled back and smashed a kiss on Castiel’s lips.

Sam choked on air. _“The fuck?”_

Crowley, leaning against one of the doorframes in the library, shrugged in disdain.

“Hell is too busy to be here watching this,” he said before disappearing.

Rowena was there as well, because they’d asked her to come the moment they knew they were dealing with a witch.

“If he weren’t dead,” she said, walking out to the kitchen, “Lucifer would owe me a hundred souls for this,” she finished, leaving the room.

Dean finally ended the kiss. Cass was staring at him, in a mix of confusion and genuine (but not unpleasant) surprise.

“This spell is even worse than I imagined,” Sam said, still witnessing the exchange in shock.

“Sam?” Cass inquired.

Dean was looking at him with heart eyes and a dopey smile. Cass didn’t complain, but he just needed an explanation.

“Jullieth cast a spell on him. We didn’t know what the spell was for before this. I’ll talk to Rowena.” Sam turned to the door and then back to his brother and friend. “Do not leave him unsupervised. Just in case.”

*

Sam and Rowena were each on a side of the table in the bunker library. Sam had eyes from afar on Dean and Cass, who were on the couch not too far away. He could almost smell the pheromones of love leaving his brother’s body.

He focused on hitting the lore as much as he could while Rowena did her nails until he finally found something useful in one of the many books he’d been reading.

“I believe we’re facing a succubus!” He exclaimed, genuinely excited. “Not a witch, but a demon that has magic powers related to love and lust. Whatever she did to Dean might be making him act like…” He turned his head to the couch, and Rowena also lifted her eyes from her hands. Dean was looking at Cass way too closely, obviously admiring him, and Cass was uncomfortably trying very hard to keep both of them at a distance. “...That,” Sam said with a wince on his face. “But why Cass, right?” He turned to Rowena again.

“Why him?” She asked back, incredulous. “Isn’t it obvious? They’re both head over heels for the other.”

“Dean is straight as a damn arrow,” he stated, deadly serious.

Her lips curled up and her eyebrows wiggled slightly.

“I think you should never forget I know a way or two to read minds if I want to.”

Sam gulped, partly because that was not something nice to know and partly because he hated her for invading people’s privacy like that.

“Right. Just… You think you can take the spell back?”

She switched her features from pleased to bored and dropped a nail file she’d been holding.

“I’ll see what I can do. Don’t you want to get me a cup of tea, darling?”

He rolled his eyes and plastered on a smile.

“Yeah, sure,” he said and went to the kitchen to, well, actually get her the tea.

*

“Dean,” Castiel said, his tone as serious and monotone as it could possibly be, “this is not you thinking.”

He planted a hand on Dean’s chest to keep pushing him away.

Dean’s eyes saddened at the words and, very likely, at the rejection altogether.

“Why would you say something like that?” He asked, hurt and shaking his head in disbelief. “Cass, you’re so important to me and I really just want to show you—” Dean was cupping Castiel’s face with a hand when, miraculously, Sam and Rowena walked in on them.

“I think we got it!” Sam said. “Dean,” he stood in front of his brother and handed him a glass with a light blue liquid in it. Dean smelled it immediately and he shrugged, his face was one of acceptance. “Drink that. Rowena will make a spell afterward so you… go back to normal.”

Dean seemed confused. Like nothing else besides Castiel himself mattered. Like his understanding had been compromised by the spell. Like he didn’t take things seriously and had no idea what Sam was talking about, yet he drank the whole glass of whatever that had been.

 _“Carminibus et incantationibus, lava o signifers corpus!"_  Rowena said vehemently, moving her hands around in the air and pointed them towards Dean.

Dean’s face became serious and he looked around him in absolute confusion. He glanced at the empty glass in his hand and then to his brother.

“Wow. How long was I out?” He asked, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Out? You were never out,” Sam said.

“The last thing I remember is us fighting that bitch at Donovan’s basement,” Dean said.

Castiel snorted.

“Of course you don’t,” he said. He couldn’t believe the disappointment impregnated in his voice.

“Why? What happened?” Dean asked.

Castiel and Sam traded looks and Castiel decided he was the best one to answer that question.

“You missed some things. Sam will have to catch you up on what you’re hunting.”

Dean nodded and connected his eyes with his brother’s.

“Oh. Is that it?”

Sam looked at Castiel, asking for a kind of permission or plea to know how he was supposed to answer. He definitely found a plea.

“Yeah. We got a new one right here. She’s a succubus,” he explained, and then Dean rose to his feet and vanished into the library with Sam.

Rowena looked at Castiel’s saddened eyes.

“You wanted him to remember, didn’t you?”

He lowered his gaze, then sighed.

“Just to know what he would think about it, at least. I know it was just because of magic—but still.”

*

Hunting Jullieth was easier than expected. She put her guard down and after the regular amount of struggle, they got her at her fancy penthouse with an angel blade.

The car ride back home was filled with 80’s music and small talk between the Winchester brothers.

Back at the bunker, Dean was having a homemade meal—thank you very much, Sammy, and may Chuck bless your cooking abilities—while Sam and Cass were probably being the biggest nerds ever in the library.

Dean was too focused on his spaghetti and the reasons he loved it when they walked in the kitchen, Cass following Sam.

“Hey, do you want anything?” Sam asked Castiel, peeking over his shoulder as he grabbed an apple from their counter.

Cass shifted on his feet awkwardly, looking between Dean and the floor.

“No, thank you.”

Although Dean had his mouth still full, he asked him, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Just not hungry.”

Dean frowned. Cass was the worst liar on the planet.

“Moose.”

The three of them startled at the familiar voice and turned to the kitchen entrance.

“I heard you got your witch.”

“You didn’t get the full memo, huh?” Dean said. “She was a succubus.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, not entirely impressed. He opened a cupboard and grabbed one of the liquor bottles to pour himself a glass. Even Cass was giving him a judgemental look. “What? In Hell, those asshats can’t even get me quality booze.”

Dean snorted.

“Sounds terrible. Right, Cass?”

“Yeah. Right.”

Crowley looked between them and rolled his eyes.

“Really, gentlemen?” He said. “Both of you, grow  a pair.”

Crowley vanished—glass of whiskey included—and Sam, already  finishing his apple, looked expectantly at Cass. Cass widened his eyes and Dean observed the interactions in silence, until he realized none of them were saying anything either.

“What is he talking about?” Dean asked.

“Honestly?” Cass asked. Dean gave a single and sharp nod. Castiel continued, “I rather not to talk about it.”

As Castiel walked out of there, Dean turned to Sam, but it was already too late for that.

“Nope, it’s none of my business,” Sam said, lifting his hands in the air as he left Dean by himself in the kitchen again.

*

Sam knocked on Cass’ bedroom door and waited for a reply.

“Come in,” Cass said from the other side of the door.

Sam opened the door and found Cass sitting on his made bed, watching some show on TLC.

“Uh, hey,” Sam said.

Cass quickly forgot about the TV and turned to him.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Cass…” Sam walked closer to the bed, until he sat on the opposite edge from where Cass was laid back. “You have to tell Dean. Crowley and Rowena were there, and if he hears it from any of them, he’ll be pissed.”

Cass sighed.

“I know. I just—I can’t bring myself to tell him. What should I say? He was under a spell. It’s like it never happened.”

“Unless it _did._  He kissed you and whether he was under anything or not when it happened, you should just let him know.”

Cass looked around for a moment. He even focused his eyes on the screen for a second before returning them to Sam’s direction. He took a deep breath and nodded serenely.

“I’ll tell him. Soon enough, I promise.”

Sam smiled condescendingly.

“Good. I hope it goes well.” Then, realizing he may unconvince Cass again, he added, “It probably will, anyway, ‘k? It’s just better that he knows from you now than from anyone else later.”

“You’re right, I guess.”

Sam got up from the bed and walked to the door.

“Night,” he said.

“Good night.”

*

Castiel was a man of his word, especially if he made promises to Sam or Dean.

He thought about it, planned a speech, and the next morning went to knock on Dean’s door to tell him about what had happened less than a day and a half earlier.

“Yeah?” Dean asked.

“It’s me, Castiel,” he answered.

“Come on in.”

Castiel opened the door to see Dean was reading on his bed.

“Hey,” Castiel said. Dean looked at him fondly.

“‘Sup, buddy?”

“Dean, I—I  have something to tell you.”

Dean frowned, probably recognizing the seriousness in Castiel’s voice. Castiel gulped, then froze.

Crap.

What was next in his speech again? Should he just mention “Hey, we kissed. While you were under a spell”? Or should he… start from somewhere else? Like “Remember you asked me what Crowley was talking about”?

“Cass?”

“I… I really wanted to wear that shirt,” Castiel said, landing his eyes on the shirt Dean had been wearing the day before. It was a plaid blue flannel that had all of Castiel’s attention at the moment and literally the first thing he could think of to excuse himself from telling him the truth.

Dean must’ve known he was lying, but he couldn’t care. Words were stuck in his throat and he couldn’t even look Dean in the eye by then.

“Well,” Dean said, shrugging, “you’ll have to wait ‘till the laundry is done on the weekend.”

“No, don’t worry,” Castiel said, taking the shirt. “I‘ll just take it and go.”

Castiel turned on his heels and started walking out of his friend’s bedroom, not before seeing out of the corner of his eye how Dean put the book page down on the bed and looked at him.

“Wait, Cass.”

Castiel turned around. Dean got up from the bed.

“I know you obviously didn’t come to ask me for that shirt. What happened? Sam did mention I wasn’t myself while I was bewitched, but he said it wasn’t too important. Did I say something that hurt you or—”

“No, Dean. That’s the last thing you did. You don’t need to worry. Sam was right.”

*

Later, when they were gathering to have breakfast, Cass was wearing the shirt that Dean had lent him and Sam was preparing coffee while looking strange as fuck with his hair tied up in a pony tail.

Cass approached Dean while he served pancakes, standing mysteriously close to him.

Dean noticed the closeness and turned to face him.

“Hey, Cass—”

Cass kissed him, out of nowhere, without asking questions, deep and meaningful. Dean kissed back, placing a supporting hand next to the stove.

It was good and new and wonderful and—what? Was that a dream or…

 _“Dean?”_ Sam asked.

Dean pulled back from the kiss and found his brother staring at them in confusion and a little bit of horror.

“Cass, what is this about?” Dean asked, smiling nervously.

“I love you,” Cass said.

“What? Me too, alright, but—”

Dean was cut off by Cass’ mouth on his once more. He didn’t resist the urge to cup his face and press their chests together.

“Again?” Crowley said. Damn it, how could he always be sneaking into their lives? “Get a room already.”

“Again?” Dean asked. “What do you mean by ‘again’? This just happened.”

Cass kissed Dean again and Dean, although investing himself in Cass’ mouth, could listen to his brother’s and Crowley’s conversation in the background.

“What’s going on around here?” Crowley asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ll call Rowena again.”

“Good. That’s my cue.”

*

After Rowena fixed Cass the same way she had fixed Dean, Cass came back to normal just as confused and lost as Dean had done.

He face-palmed as he stared down at the glass in his hand.

“Did it happen to me, too?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered, arms crossed over his chest.

“How long?” Cass asked.

“Not much,” Dean said. “Like two hours, maybe less.”

“But you do know how to make good use of that time,” Rowena said suggestively, smiling and even winking at them.

“What’s she talking about?” Cass asked.

“Maybe you should ask Dean,” Sam said.

“Did it—oh, my god, did it? Did _I_?”

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Sam said, walking out of the living room with Rowena following him closely.

“You kissed me,” Dean stated.

“Yeah, I supposed. You did the same when you were bewitched, too.”

Dean’s eyebrows almost met his hairline.

“What? That’s what you were being all awkward about!”

“Yeah. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

Dean put his hands over Cass' on his lap and smiled at the thought of what he was going to say next.

“Let’s just say I’m happy you opened my eyes. Or this spell, whatever it was that did to us.”

Dean leaned forward and kissed Cass again.

It was as awesome as their first time, even if he couldn’t remember it. Also, the refreshing feeling of knowing it was the first time of many gave air to Dean’s lungs and made him feel, for a moment, like that was what magic was about.

  


*

Sam laid on his bed, trying to fall asleep. Suddenly, he opened his eyes as realization hit him in the face.

“It’s the flannel!”

→the end←

**Author's Note:**

> PS: If you ever happen, by any chance, to find and read this, Jiullieth, yes, the character was named after you (even when the spelling isn’t the same). You’re not evil or anything bad. You have a really pretty name, I’m talkin to Miguelángel right now and I couldn’t think of any other name LMAO.


End file.
